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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28154238">Fever</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/faithlessone/pseuds/faithlessone'>faithlessone</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Stormheart - (M!Trevelyan/Cassandra) [20]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Kinda, Promise, but - Freeform, he kinda does, if you squint? - Freeform, not saying brennan has fantasy covid, sorry - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:27:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,436</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28154238</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/faithlessone/pseuds/faithlessone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Brennan catches a cold in the middle of the Hissing Wastes. Cassandra gets... stressed.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cassandra Pentaghast/Male Trevelyan, Male Inquisitor/Cassandra Pentaghast</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Stormheart - (M!Trevelyan/Cassandra) [20]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1756030</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>How Brennan has managed to catch a cold in the middle of a <em>desert</em>, she has no idea. </p>
<p>It starts with a headache; of that she is certain. Though she would be surprised if he did not have one, out here. Though they have the luxury of ice magic, easily melted to water; no matter how much they drink, the desert air wicks it out of them soon enough. She thanks the Maker for the frost rune that Dagna had enchanted for her armour. Riding through the desert in full plate and leathers would be unbearable else.</p>
<p>The Hissing Wastes are unbelievably vast. They have far to go, and many Venatori and Red Templars to stop, many rifts to close. Not to mention the varghests and the giant spiders and the other assorted wildlife that seem determined to kill and eat them. And then there is the missing patrol. She does not believe they yet live. If they did, they would have checked in with the scouts by now. There is perhaps the slimmest of chances that they are trapped in a cave somewhere, away from the burning heat of the day, and eking out their meagre rations in hope of rescue, but such a thing is too unlikely to be worth hoping for, let alone that their party will be able to find them before they perish.</p>
<p>Unfortunately, that is one of the things Brennan has an inexhaustible supply of.</p>
<p>Hope.</p>
<p>She sees it in his eyes when she suggests they stop for a rest in the shade of rocks at the hottest point of the day. Again, when she tries to insist that they make camp before the sun sets. He keeps wanting to press on.</p>
<p>At night, when the temperature drops and he shivers in his sleep, she curls up against him, putting herself between him and the world as she always does. It does not ease her mind completely, unfortunately. But it helps.</p>
<p>On the fourth day of their search, he coughs more than can be explained away by the sand and dust in the air. He tries to do it secretly, burying his face in his sleeve as if wiping away sweat and grit, or hiding behind the map that the scouts prepared for him, but he is not as sneaky as he thinks he is. She cannot help the concerned looks she shoots him at every cough, nor the way she instinctively offers him her waterskin. He shakes it off every time. Too noble for his own good, yet again.</p>
<p>They are attacked by a small troupe of venatori that afternoon.</p>
<p>It should be a relatively straightforward skirmish. Though Vivienne and Cole don’t have <em>as </em>much experience in the field as certain others in the Inquisition’s senior ranks, they are both perfectly capable fighters.</p>
<p>Which they are.</p>
<p>Brennan, on the other hand…</p>
<p>“Behind you!” she yells, as he, for the second time in under five minutes, fails to notice the venatori warrior that has somehow flanked them.</p>
<p>He barely turns in time to throw up a half-hearted barrier that Commander Helaine would be ashamed of, spinning sloppily out of range as the warrior’s sword crashes down mere inches from his shoulder. Simultaneously, she charges forward, calling down the Wrath of Heaven on the enemy as Brennan shakes himself awake and lifts his staff. Too late. The venatori falls to her own blade before he can summon the strength to cast.</p>
<p>It takes him three attempts to re-mount his horse afterwards.</p>
<p>Vivienne gives her a sympathetic smile, Cole whispers something, and she ignores both of them in favour of keeping an eye on the horizon, watching fitfully for further signs of danger.</p>
<p>That evening, she doesn’t just insist that they make camp when they reach a sensible spot two hours before sunset, she actually dismounts from her horse and starts setting up their tent. Vivienne stifles a smile and follows suit. Cole is a little more wary, glancing between her and Brennan, who is still stubbornly mounted, but eventually he too slips from his horse.</p>
<p>“You cannot go on alone,” she points out.</p>
<p>For a moment, he looks as if he’s going to doggedly do just that, if only because she has told him that he can’t, but then he coughs again, and presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose for a second.</p>
<p>“Perhaps not,” he allows, slipping awkwardly from the horse.</p>
<p>She strips off her armour in their tent, wincing as she removes the plate, leaving her in her leathers, her muscles pulling uncomfortably across her shoulders. Usually, this would be the point where she would allow him to help, but she has no such intention tonight.</p>
<p>“Here, let me,” he starts, and then presses his hand to his mouth to stifle a cough.</p>
<p>“Not tonight,” she chides him gently, pressing a kiss against his cheek. His skin feels very warm, but the sun is still up. It is understandable.</p>
<p>He seems disappointed, but he nods anyway, dropping the subject.</p>
<p>That night, she wakes to movement. Not just his usual night-time shivers, but a coughing fit, worse than any he has had so far.</p>
<p>She drops the dagger that she has instinctively grabbed, and sits up with him.</p>
<p>“Brennan?” she asks, alarmed as he bends double, shoulders trembling with the strain of trying not to cough.</p>
<p>He tries to respond, tries to tell her that he’s fine, but that just inspires a new round of coughing.</p>
<p>She rubs his back, which doesn’t particularly help, but it makes her feel like she is doing something, at least, and he curls into her. When the coughing subsides, and he merely shivers, she manoeuvres them so his head is pillowed on her lap. She rests her hand across his forehead, almost startling at the touch. Hotter than the midday sun on the sand.</p>
<p>“You are burning up,” she gasps.</p>
<p>He reaches up as she lifts her hand away, pressing it back.</p>
<p>“Cool,” he breathes, blissful.</p>
<p>“I <em>knew</em> you were not well,” she hisses quietly, trying not to sound as angry as she feels.</p>
<p>She is honestly surprised that this has not come up before, to be honest. The man is as bad at taking care of himself as he is at turning down requests. It stands to reason that he would ignore an illness to continue on a quest, especially when there are missing agents on the line. She is going to have to keep a <em>much</em> closer eye on him in future.</p>
<p>Moving carefully, trying not to disrupt him, she reaches for her pack, and a healing potion.</p>
<p>It is a bad sign, she thinks, that he doesn’t even <em>try</em> to argue with her when she uncaps it and holds it to his lips.</p>
<p>“Drink,” she commands.</p>
<p>He obeys her immediately, though he only sips at it. It takes seconds that feel like hours for him to finish the whole vial, even though he can usually swallow the contents in one swig in the heat of battle.</p>
<p>Next, she reaches for waterskin at the edge of the tent. Vivienne had refilled them all after they had finished dinner, thank the Maker, so it is reassuringly heavy with water. She presses this to his lips too.</p>
<p>“Drink,” she commands again.</p>
<p>He does so, after a moment of hesitation, grabbing at the skin as he gulps, far more enthusiastically than he had taken the potion, but she doesn’t let go of it. Weak as he is, she doesn’t want the thing to drop and spill the precious liquid. When he has drained half the skin, she pulls it back, despite his whimpers.</p>
<p>“You will make yourself sick. Which is something you cannot afford at present,” she tells him, her voice low and calm even though her mind is racing with fear.</p>
<p>When the skin is capped once more, she reclines again, letting him curl up against her. The shivers still wrack his body, reminding her uncomfortably of the night after the fall of Haven, but she pushes that to the back of her mind. He is not freezing now. Quite the opposite.</p>
<p>If they had been at Skyhold, she would not have worried. A soft bed, as much water and as many potions as they could require, and a dozen well-trained healers, let alone the apothecaries and researchers, who would <em>know</em> if this were a simple cold, as she suspects, or something worse, as she can’t help fearing. He would be up and back to his usual tricks in no time. Even if they were in the Hinterlands, or Crestwood, or Emprise, she wouldn’t worry, given the number of their people and the wealth of supplies they control there.</p>
<p>But here?</p>
<p>The Hissing Wastes are unbelievably vast. And filled with Venatori, with Red Templars, with rifts, with varghests and giant spiders and other assorted wildlife that seem determined to kill and eat them. The nearest Inquisition camp is a day’s hard ride from their position, and that’s assuming that whoever was doing the riding was not set upon by any of the aforementioned enemies.</p>
<p>Even then, the camp is nothing more than a way station. A handful of scouts at best, basic supplies of food and potions, and birds to send their reports and requests. There is no Inquisition fort for hundreds of miles, no real reinforcements unless they have the luxury of time to send a message and wait for a response.</p>
<p>Does Brennan have that time?</p>
<p>It is no wonder that only their hardiest, toughest, or least popular scouts are sent all the way out here. Not a posting even <em>she</em> would choose, given any other option.</p>
<p>She takes a silent stock of their supplies.</p>
<p>Water, as long as Vivienne is able to provide it. Some basic food rations, enough for a week more for each of the four of them. Nearly a full complement of healing and lyrium potions. The usual weapons and armour. Supplies for taking care of said weapons and armour. Writing materials. A pair of novels in her pack, a deck of Wicked Grace cards and a book on the constellations in his.</p>
<p>She isn’t sure what Vivienne and Cole carry in their personal effects, but Vivienne often has lotions and potions for all sorts of maladies in her bag. With luck, she may have something to help. She could not even begin to imagine what Cole might choose to carry with him.</p>
<p>While she is pondering whether to leave him to check with their companions, the door of their tent rustles. Again, her hand flies to the dagger she has discarded, ready to defend them both, but… no, it is only Cole.</p>
<p>“My watch is over,” he says softly, in his usual bordering-on-cryptic tone. “I will stay with him if you like?”</p>
<p>Though it has been months since Cole joined the Inquisition, it is only very recently that she has even begun to warm to him. Due, in no small part, ironically, to Varric’s influence on his humanity. Even so, the idea of leaving him alone with a sick, near-defenceless Brennan gives her a pause she knows Brennan himself would surely disapprove of.</p>
<p>“I won’t hurt him,” the boy promises, his voice taking on a solemn air that seems more suited to taking holy vows. “I will get you if he wakes.”</p>
<p>It would be both cruel and ill-advised to force him to continue on his watch. Vivienne had taken the first part of the night, him the second and hardest, leaving her the third, to let Brennan sleep the whole night through. At least, that had been their intention.</p>
<p>She gently extricates herself from Brennan’s grip, her heart clenching at his soft mutters of distress as he loses his pillow. In turn, she makes soothing shushing noises, giving him his own pack to snuggle up to. A poor replacement in both their eyes, judging by the disgruntled sounds he makes as he slips further into sleep, but necessary. She gathers her own belongings and crawls out of the small tent, allowing Cole to take her place, a little further away from him than she had been.</p>
<p>“If he wakes himself up coughing, give him some more water,” she tells the boy, pointing out the waterskin at the edge of the tent.</p>
<p>He nods in reply, his face still solemn, and then she lets the tent flap fall, and settles down at the fireside to start her watch. The fire is lower than she’d like it to be, so she makes that her first point of distraction; collecting up some of the dry twigs and roots that they had gathered the previous evening and stoking it back up. It’s needless busy work, if anything, but it does distract her for a few minutes.</p>
<p>(She resists the urge to check on him.)</p>
<p>Next, she sharpens her sword, then her daggers. Slowly and methodically, keeping half her attention on the surrounding area, just in case. They haven’t run into too many nocturnal enemies so far in this void-taken place, but it never hurts to be vigilant.</p>
<p>(She resists the urge to check on him.)</p>
<p>When her sword and daggers are as sharp as they can be, she turns her attention to her shield, buffing out the dents and scratches as well as she can. Again, slowly and methodically. Her armour too. There’s a nasty divot in one of her pauldrons, but with patience and hard work, she manages to almost fix it entirely. This takes even longer than the sharpening, but still, when she’s done, the sky has not yet begun to lighten.</p>
<p>(She resists the urge to check on him.)</p>
<p>Instead, she gets up, stretching her legs for a minute as she takes a walk around the perimeter of their small camp. Just two tents forming a rough triangle with the campfire. It takes her less than half a minute to make the circle of them, and there is still nothing in sight.</p>
<p>(She resists the urge to check on him.)</p>
<p>Though she would not admit it aloud, for fear the Maker would hear her and grant her her wish, she would dearly love the excuse to hit something with her sword right about now. Something to release the nervous tension from her muscles and distract her from worrying about him.</p>
<p>Instead, she checks on their mounts. Four strong horses who have served them well in this vast wasteland. Two of them are snoozing, the other two, like her, are standing watch. She pets the conscious ones, whispering in a crooning voice for a minute or two as Brennan does whenever they stop, until they grow bored of the attention.</p>
<p>(She resists the urge to check on him.)</p>
<p>Next, she stretches out and relaxes her muscles, little by little, isolating as far as she can. An old meditation technique she had learned in her early days, training to be a Seeker. Then she shadow-boxes for a few minutes, before drawing her sword and going through studied forms.</p>
<p>Despite all this, however, her mind still keeps drifting back to the tent, and to the man she loves inside it. With any luck, the health potion will have done him some good, and when he wakes in the morning, they will be able to start riding back to the nearest camp.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>*</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dawn comes slowly. Far too slowly. But Cole does not emerge from the tent until the sun has risen fully over the horizon.</p>
<p>As soon as she hears the door of the tent move, she drops the spoon she is using to stir their breakfast, and leaps to her feet.</p>
<p>“He sleeps,” Cole greets her, correctly guessing that Brennan’s condition is all that concerns her. “He is stronger when you are beside him.”</p>
<p>All she can do is nod, abandoning the breakfast and barely waiting for him to step aside before she barrels into the tent. Her pillow is clasped in Brennan’s arms, her blanket around his shoulders and partially over his face. The sight makes her heart hurt, and she slips down, half-wrestling the pillow from his grasp so she can take its place.</p>
<p>He stirs as she does so, eyes opening when she presses her lips against his forehead. He is still far, far too hot, but his shivers seem to have subsided since last night.</p>
<p>“How do you feel?” she asks, softly.</p>
<p>He makes a disgruntled noise that rivals one of her own, burying his face into her shoulder and inhaling deeply as if her very scent is medicine to him.</p>
<p>“Did Cole make you drink anything?”</p>
<p>He shakes his head, just a little, still pressed against her.</p>
<p>She reaches out for the waterskin, still against the side of the tent where she left it, and forces him to sit up enough to drink. Again, he gulps it down like he has not tasted liquid in a week. It worries her.</p>
<p>When the skin is empty, he slumps against her, almost boneless.</p>
<p>Just as the thought crosses her mind that, at least he isn’t coughing again, he shudders and splutters against her shoulder. She rubs his back again, feeling somewhat useless.</p>
<p>The door flap moves again. Not Cole this time. Vivienne.</p>
<p>At the sight of them, she makes a noise that Cassandra correctly reads as ‘I thought as much’. She reaches out, handing over a small vial with a dark, amber coloured liquid inside.</p>
<p>“I tried a healing potion last night,” Cassandra explains, her tone frustrated. “But it does not seem to have worked as I hoped.”</p>
<p>Vivienne shakes her head. “The healing potions we use are brewed for trauma, darling, not sickness. If he had broken a rib or ruptured a lung from coughing, the potion would mend it, but unfortunately that’s as much as it would help. Give him this, and a lyrium potion to help his mana replenish. His immune system will be draining his magic to fight the sickness. As it did yesterday. Helaine will be furious when she finds out he thought he could keep casting.”</p>
<p>She takes the vial. Vivienne’s words mostly flow over her head, but she manages to glean the important parts.</p>
<p>“What is <em>this</em>?” she asks, regarding the amber liquid and trying not to sound suspicious. It clings to the side of the glass as she tilts it, more viscous than any potion she’s ever seen.</p>
<p>Vivienne laughs softly. “Not poison, I promise. An invention of my own. An infusion of a few different herbs. Elfroot, mostly, with a little embrium and prophet’s laurel. Mixed with honey, which helps the taste and will also soothe his throat.”</p>
<p>“Thank you, Vivienne.”</p>
<p>She gives a soft, understanding smile. “Cole is finishing off the breakfast. When Trevelyan has taken his medicine, he should eat something. As should you.”</p>
<p>It takes a while to convince Brennan to drink the vial of honey, but he takes the lyrium potion without a fuss. Thank the Maker. After a few minutes, he is strong enough to sit up, to pull on some of his clothes, and, with her help, crawl out of the tent.</p>
<p>There are two steaming bowls waiting for them, smelling quite a bit better than the indistinguishable meaty sludge she remembers cooking. Cole’s influence, no doubt. For all his strange ideas about the world, he has recently developed an enjoyment in cooking that has been of great benefit on the journey so far.</p>
<p>“How do you feel, darling?” Vivienne asks, as Cassandra helps him over to the fireside.</p>
<p>He makes a brave attempt at speech, but all that manages to come out is a raspy noise that sounds rather like “well”.</p>
<p>Cole hands him a spoon and makes a gesture as if to say, “eat up!”.</p>
<p>Brennan wrinkles his nose at the bowl, but he follows Cole’s instructions, eating slowly.</p>
<p>By the time they have finished breakfast, some of the colour has come back to his cheeks, but he still cannot keep from coughing, and his temperature is still far too high.</p>
<p>Leaving him under Cole’s supervision, she pulls Vivienne aside under the pretence of checking the horses.</p>
<p>“We cannot continue on,” she says, deciding to get right to the point of the matter. “If we are set upon by… <em>anything</em>, he does not have the strength to fight, and trying to protect him would split our focus. It would more than likely end badly.”</p>
<p>Vivienne nods. “I agree, but try telling him that, darling. He’s as stubborn as a bronto when he puts his mind to it. What do you propose? I daresay you’d prefer us all to make the ride back to the camp, but he may not be strong enough to do so.”</p>
<p>“He might <em>have</em> to be.”</p>
<p>Vivienne’s slightly raised eyebrow and the hint of disapproval in the twist to her mouth tells her all she needs to know about the mage’s opinion on <em>that</em>.</p>
<p>“If worse comes to worst, we stay here for a few days. I can provide water, and I’m sure we can hunt down some of those little fennecs to prolong the rations, but…”</p>
<p>She trails off, suggestively, and Cassandra hears the words she doesn’t want to say out loud. They’re camping in the middle of nowhere. The scouts do expect them back at one of the main camps within the week, but should anything happen, or should Brennan take longer to recover than they have the supplies for… They would be near-defenceless.</p>
<p>“In that case, someone is going to have to ride for help,” she says, decisively. And then she falters. Because who would they send?</p>
<p>She, herself, would be the most sensible option. She has the most experience in fighting alone, the best constitution, and is the most willing to push herself and her mount almost to the point of collapse to return to the camp within the day.</p>
<p>But the idea of leaving him, with only Vivienne and Cole for protection, makes her stomach churn and her heart clench. She would not be able to have a moment’s respite from worrying about him until he was in her arms again.</p>
<p>Vivienne is a talented Knight Enchanter, she has no doubt, and Cole’s abilities are still almost otherworldly despite his increasing humanity, but she does not like the idea of sending either of them out into the wasteland alone.</p>
<p>“He can hear you.”</p>
<p>Cole’s voice behind her makes her jump. She hadn’t noticed him leave the fire. Turning, she sees Brennan watching them. He gives a little wave.</p>
<p>“Stubborn as a bronto,” Vivienne reminds her in a whisper.</p>
<p>They return to the fireside.</p>
<p>“We aren’t going to find the missing scouts, are we?” he asks, before they even have a chance to sit. His throat is still raspy, but the tone of disappointment and bitterness in his voice is unmistakeable.</p>
<p>He blames himself, that is as clear as the sky above them. She also knows that nothing she can say will be able to disavow him of the notion that if he hadn’t fallen sick, if he had been stronger, or faster, they would have found them, alive.</p>
<p>Even so, she won’t lie to him.</p>
<p>She shakes her head.</p>
<p>He groans, though whether from frustration or pain, she isn’t sure. She slides closer to him, and he curls against her without hesitation. Maker, if he is willing to show such weakness in front of the others, he must really be suffering.</p>
<p>“We need to return,” she tells him, fingers softly carding through his hair and scratching at his scalp the way he likes. “Do you think you can ride?”</p>
<p>He nods against her shoulder.</p>
<p>Vivienne raises her eyebrow again.</p>
<p>After a short discussion, they decide to rest for another few hours, until the worst of the sun has passed, and then start away while the afternoon grows cooler. It will mean riding after sunset, but after an extra half-day’s rest, so long as they stay vigilant, it should not be a problem.</p>
<p>She sends Brennan back to their tent to sleep for the rest of the morning. He complains, a little, but the mere act of trying to stand up to her drains his energy, so eventually he does as he is told.</p>
<p>Cole goes a little way off to hunt, promising that he won’t get sand in his shoes again. She… decides not to ask.</p>
<p>This leaves herself and Vivienne.</p>
<p>The mage clears a flat space in the sand, roughly her own height and a little wider, and then begins to work through her usual exercises. She has never really paid much attention to them, usually as Vivienne often does them first thing in the morning when Cassandra is busy doing her own exercise or checking her weapons. There is a certain… calming quality to the slow way she flows from one pose to another, her muscle control absolute…</p>
<p>“I will teach you, if you wish. If you do not, please stop staring. It is rather off-putting.”</p>
<p>Vivienne’s voice shakes her from her stupor.</p>
<p>“No… That is… not now. Is it not… magical, in origin?”</p>
<p>The mage moves smoothly from a standing pose, folding her body and releasing a stretch until she is lying down, her shoulders pulling back until she resembles a drawn bow.</p>
<p>“It does not require magic, no. Simply a way to channel tension. All sorts of tension. Something I daresay you sorely need, especially at present, with our darling boy out of commission.”</p>
<p>Something in Vivienne’s tone makes her peevishly turn away, though she is aware that likely, she means <em>only</em> that Cassandra must be worried about Brennan’s health. “I will channel my tension through my sword, thank you.”</p>
<p>“Suit yourself, darling,” she says, shrugging smoothly as she transitions again. “Why don’t you go and check on him? I will alert you if anything happens.”</p>
<p>Though her bad mood makes her want to petulantly go and stab something with a sword to prove Vivienne wrong, she does want to check on him. The temperature has already risen, and the tent may well be stiflingly hot before too long.</p>
<p>She slips into the tent, which is certainly warmer than it had been when she left it earlier this morning, propping open the flap to allow what small breeze there is to enter.</p>
<p>Brennan is lying on top of his bedroll, one arm flung over his eyes, the other stretched out and over her own blanket, as if reaching for her in his sleep. Carefully, she crawls into the space, slipping her hand into his. Almost immediately, he pulls on it, sending her near crashing into him.</p>
<p>“You are awake,” she says. Not really a question.</p>
<p>He moves his arm away from his eyes for a moment, glancing at her before returning it. “Too warm. And everything aches.”</p>
<p>An idea occurs to her. She reaches for the pieces of her armour, which she had brought back into the tent while he was eating breakfast, retrieving her gauntlet, and slipping the frost rune out of it. In all honesty, she isn’t… <em>exactly</em> sure how it works, but she takes a bandage from the small kit in her pack, and uses it to bind the rune to his outstretched wrist. He gives a violent shiver, which terrifies her, but then he lets out a delighted, far-too-familiar <em>moan</em>.</p>
<p>“Oh, what is that?” he asks, throat still rough.</p>
<p>She lets her fingers trail up his arm from the bandage to his shoulder, and then across his chest, judging his temperature. It may be her imagination, but she can already sense his skin beginning to cool down.</p>
<p>“A frost rune. Dagna made it for my armour.”</p>
<p>He moans again, fingers grasping at her leathers and pulling her closer. “Oh, I get myself the <em>best</em> gifts.”</p>
<p>“You?”</p>
<p>“Who do you think requested a frost rune for you?”</p>
<p>She… hadn’t known. The way Dagna had called her down to the Undercroft and presented it to her, she had assumed that it had been the arcanist’s idea. Some new project she was working on, using Cassandra as a test subject. It wouldn’t be the first time.</p>
<p>But…</p>
<p>Now…</p>
<p>Come to think of it…</p>
<p>How many of those ‘experiments’ had not been experiments at all? How many had been Brennan, trying to make her life easier without taking the credit for it? The adjustments to her armour, her sword and shield…</p>
<p>She is going to have to have a stern talk with the dwarf when they get back.</p>
<p>He pulls her closer, curling up against her side so all he needs to do is whisper.</p>
<p>“I know how much you complained about the heat in the Western Approach. My mistake. I didn’t think about how much <em>warmer</em> the plate armour would be. More conductive. I had Dagna work on something that didn’t need to be installed into a weapon. Something you could wear, when you wanted to, and take off when you didn’t. Not like you’ll need a frost rune when we get home.”</p>
<p>It’s the most he’s talked in almost three days, and she knows she should stop him, tell him to rest, to sleep, but it would be rude not to thank him, wouldn’t it?</p>
<p>She runs her fingers through his hair, tilting his head back just enough that her lips can press against his. Though she meant it to be chaste, he clearly isn’t satisfied with that, deepening the kiss and trying his best to press her back and down into their bedroll. She refuses to let him, breaking the kiss and resting her forehead against his instead. Still warmer than she would like.</p>
<p>After a few moments, he twists away from her to have a small coughing fit. She rubs his back again, then cards her fingers through his hair when he finally turns back to her.</p>
<p>“Sorry,” he whispers against her shoulder.</p>
<p>“There is nothing for you to be sorry about,” she insists, holding him against her. “Sleep, my love. Just sleep. I promise I will stay.”</p>
<p>Cole is the one who rouses them both.</p>
<p>She hadn’t been intending to go to sleep herself.</p>
<p>“The horses would like to go now,” he says, voice solemn again. “They are very bored, and have slept enough for today.”</p>
<p>When she extricates herself from Brennan’s still lethargic form, and crawls out of the tent, she sees that yes, the sun has not only crossed the midpoint of the sky, but is firmly in the descent.</p>
<p>Vivienne is loading her horse, their tent already dismantled, and the fire thoroughly raked over. Camp has been all but broken, aside from their own tent.</p>
<p>“You should have woken me earlier,” she tells Vivienne, trying and failing not to sound accusatory. “Were you planning on leaving without us?”</p>
<p>“We simply wanted to streamline the process, darling. No sense in tiring Trevelyan out any more than necessary. This way, he’ll have time to wake up a bit while the… while <em>Cole</em> and I help you pack your things.”</p>
<p>She doesn’t miss the way Vivienne almost and yet <em>doesn’t</em> refer to him as ‘the demon’. Part of Brennan’s thought process on bringing them both together all the way out here, when they aren’t exactly the best suited party for such an environment. It was either this, or sending them both on a diplomatic mission somewhere, and he thought this way would lead to slightly less bloodshed.</p>
<p>Slightly.</p>
<p>Strangely, though, it <em>does</em> seem to have worked. The pair of them have been getting on far better in the Wasteland than they ever have before. She hasn’t heard Cole make a single intrusive comment about Vivienne’s past in over a week!</p>
<p>They finish packing up, and then it comes time to get Brennan on a horse.</p>
<p>Something that is far easier <em>said</em>, than done.</p>
<p>They manage to get him up onto his chestnut Taslin Strider with some difficulty, but once he is up, it is clear that keeping him up there is going to be an issue, especially on the uneven sand. </p>
<p>“He is stronger when you are beside him,” Cole reminds her, offhand.</p>
<p>Maker.</p>
<p>Of course.</p>
<p>She wishes, not for the first time on this journey, that they had another warrior in the party. The presence of Iron Bull, or even Blackwall, would make this a far less daunting task. Even Varric, who somehow has become one of her most trusted friends over the last year, no matter how irritating she still finds him, would soothe her. Someone with a bit of muscle.</p>
<p>Forcibly, she reminds herself that Vivienne is a talented Knight Enchanter, and Cole’s talents are still somewhat otherworldly, and between the three of them, they will protect him.</p>
<p>She removes the saddlebags from Brennan’s horse, and fastens them to her own. He watches her with half-glazed eyes, barely comprehending what she is doing until she lashes the reins of her horse to his, and then mounts the Strider behind him.</p>
<p>Arms around him, she takes the reins, and they set off.</p>
<p>The going is slow, even with her to steady him. As the horses pick their way across the uneven sand dunes, avoiding the rocks and small, determined plants that litter the plains, she has to be eternally vigilant, not just for the external threats, but for Brennan himself, half-slumped against her. His coughing fits have not abated entirely, and every time he has one, she is terrified she will not be able to keep hold of him, that he will slip and fall from the horse.</p>
<p>By the time the sun has fully set, she is exhausted. He has been asleep for over an hour, but she doesn’t dare wake him.</p>
<p>Vivienne draws her horse close.</p>
<p>“We can stop for a break, Cassandra.”</p>
<p>The use of her first name instead of some simpering endearment does not help the situation. If anything, it makes her feel ten times worse.</p>
<p>“A little further.”</p>
<p>The horses have to go even slower in the darkness, the thin, watery moonlight barely illuminating enough to see five steps in front of them. Finally, Cole, who has been at the head of their little party, draws his mount to a stop.</p>
<p>“There is a cave down there. The spiders won’t mind if we share it for a while.”</p>
<p>He directs them to it without another word, and she doesn’t have the strength to argue. Sure enough, there is a cave, and no evidence of the giant arachnids that usually attack them on sight. With a little difficulty, she pulls the barely-conscious and rather grumpy Brennan down off the horse, and sets up his bedroll in a nook out of sight of the mouth of the cave. Vivienne lights a torch with a flick of her fingers, settling it in a convenient brazier.</p>
<p>“Cole and I will leave at first light,” she says, in a tone that brooks no argument. “You will stay here and protect him.”</p>
<p>Again, she would argue, but she barely has the strength, and besides, Vivienne is (irritatingly) correct. It makes sense.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>*</p>
<p> </p>
<p>At dawn, Vivienne insists on leaving them with more than their fair share of the waterskins and rations, and two vials of the infused honey mixture, ignoring Cassandra’s complaints that, should she and Cole get lost or injured, they will need them.</p>
<p>“Our priority is the Inquisitor’s survival,” the mage reminds her in a fierce undertone. “And should we be delayed; it is <em>he</em> who will suffer worst.”</p>
<p>Again, she is irritatingly correct.</p>
<p>When they are alone, she returns to Brennan’s side once more, sitting up against the cave wall with his head in her lap. He is awake, though his head pains him, worse every time he coughs, his temperature still higher than she would like, and his eyes keep drifting closed. She runs her fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp the way he likes.</p>
<p>“I’m bored. Talk to me,” he says plaintively after a while, his voice less raspy than it had been the previous day, thank the Maker.</p>
<p>She retrieves one of Vivienne’s vials of infused honey, and forces him to drink it, as well as half a skin’s worth of water, before she continues.</p>
<p>“What should I say?” she asks, softly.</p>
<p>“Tell me a story.”</p>
<p>The way he says it suggests he doesn’t want her to read from one of the novels she carries in her pack, or to recount another tale of the time before they knew each other. But for all her love of books and reading… she is <em>terrible</em> at making up stories.</p>
<p>Honestly, she has no idea how these authors come up with half the stuff they write. Varric especially. She had believed that the ‘Tale of the Champion’ was more fact than fiction, but having met Hawke herself and interrogated her, after a fashion, around the campfires in Crestwood, the Approach and Adamant, she is now convinced that Varric’s bestseller is just as much of a work of make-believe as his ‘Swords &amp; Shields’.</p>
<p>Her memory of her own bedtime stories is dim and clouded. She cannot remember any her parents might have told her, if they even did. Anthony, she recalls, had told her some tales of long-dead dragon hunters, but for one thing, she can barely remember them, and for another, they had never sent her to sleep. Quite the opposite, most of the time.</p>
<p>“As you wish. But I do not…” she hesitates. “These things are not easy for me.”</p>
<p>He smiles, happier it seems, now that they are alone and he has her undivided attention. “Have I discovered something that the great Lady Seeker Pentaghast cannot do? Inconceivable.”</p>
<p>She tugs on his hair a little, regretting it instantly when he winces. Apologetically, she returns to her previous pattern.</p>
<p>“There are many things I cannot do. As you are well aware. But hush, I will… I will try. How do these things begin? Once upon a time?”</p>
<p>He turns his head, pressing a kiss against her thigh. “A good a place as any for a story to begin. Who will your characters be?”</p>
<p>She considers the question.</p>
<p>“A dragon-slayer?”</p>
<p>He hums, thoughtfully. “Excellent choice. And?”</p>
<p>There had always been princesses in Anthony’s stories, another thing she remembers, so she suggests one.</p>
<p>He scoffs, the sound quickly turning into a small coughing fit. When he relaxes again, he waves his finger, partly in dismissal and then in triumph. “How about we make the <em>princess</em> the dragon-slayer? That would make more sense. And then she can have a… a…” he trails off, contemplative.</p>
<p>“Champion?”</p>
<p>He makes a dismissive noise. “No. A squire, I think. Someone to help her with her armour and clean her boots at the end of her quests.”</p>
<p>She laughs. “You have never cleaned my boots.”</p>
<p>Grinning, he catches her hand out of his hair and brings it to his lips for a kiss. “Well, it is only a story. We’re allowed to take <em>some </em>liberties with the truth. I note that you aren’t questioning my role as your squire.”</p>
<p>Though she opens her mouth to try and protest that, he kisses her hand again, lips lingering against her fingers, and she falls silent.</p>
<p>“So, what adventure should our dragon-slaying princess and her faithful squire go on?” he prompts, running his thumb across her fingers one last time before replacing her hand in his hair and stretching a little.</p>
<p>She resumes her stroking of his head, smiling when his eyes drift closed again.</p>
<p>“If she is a dragon-slayer, should she not slay a dragon?”</p>
<p>“A very short story,” he muses. “But yes, a good place for the story to go, once it does. But there needs to be a plot. A reason for her to come across the dragon, then to hunt it, and then some sort of resolution after.”</p>
<p>“I am starting to think that it is you who should be telling the story, and not I.”</p>
<p>He presses his fingers against his lips, and she can’t help but softly laugh.</p>
<p>“Once upon a time,” she begins, a little hesitant. “There lived a princess, who slayed dragons, and her squire.”</p>
<p>“Who was devoted to her,” he adds, voice a little muffled behind his fingers.</p>
<p>“Who was devoted to her,” she echoes, her heart warm. “And always obeyed her commands, even when he didn’t want to.”</p>
<p>Here, she pauses for a moment, and he chuckles softly under his breath.</p>
<p>“They lived in a… castle?” He smiles, pulling his hand away from his mouth to grasp hers again. “A castle. On top of a mountain. A special place where magic filled the air. And where there were, inexplicably, a lot of statues of owls.” The smile grows a little brighter. “They lived in the castle with their friends, and their friends often sent them down from the mountain and out into the world to do… good deeds.”</p>
<p>“What sort of good deeds?” he asks, and this time, she does not complain.</p>
<p>“Slaying dragons, of course, and demons too. Rescuing people. Solving disputes. All things that good… princesses should do.”</p>
<p>“The next part should start with ‘one day’.”</p>
<p>“One day, the princess’ friend…”</p>
<p>“Nightingale.”</p>
<p>“Nightingale, brought her a letter, saying that there was a terrible dragon.”</p>
<p>“In the village of Woodcrest.”</p>
<p>She smiles, finally understanding where he, at least, intends this story to go.</p>
<p>“A terrible dragon in the village of Woodcrest. So, she and her squire packed their things, and they went off to the village to slay the dragon.”</p>
<p>“And on the way…”</p>
<p>“On the way?”</p>
<p>“You can’t just skip straight to the dragon fight. She has to have a bit of an adventure on the way to the dragon.”</p>
<p>“What sort of adventure?” she asks, shifting so she can stroke his head with her other hand, as he doesn’t seem to want to give her back the one that he’s holding.</p>
<p>He contemplates the question for a little while; long enough that she is almost convinced he has fallen back to sleep.</p>
<p>“How about a damsel who isn’t in distress?” he says eventually. “The princess is accosted by a man who tells her that the lady he loves refuses to leave her house, even though the dragon is nearby. So, the princess promises to save the lady. She follows his directions to the house, and finds that the lady is perfectly, fine, thank you very much, but rather more concerned about a wyvern that is also terrorising the village.”</p>
<p>“I recall Judith actually wanted its liver for rat poison. And besides, she was more concerned about the undead still roaming the village than the dragon.”</p>
<p>He chuckles softly, squeezing her hand. “True. But that’s not really a child-friendly story though, is it? Corpses and rat poison and all that.”</p>
<p>“Child-friendly?”</p>
<p>“Fairy tales are supposed to be, aren’t they? Although, come to think of it, when I was a boy, I probably <em>would</em> have enjoyed a story about a princess catching a wyvern so she can cut it up and use it to kill rats. But, no. This is supposed to be a nice story. So, no rat poison. Or corpses.”</p>
<p>She smiles down at him. “So. When the princess and her squire arrived in the village, a man approached them. ‘Help me!’ he said.”</p>
<p>“No, no, no,” he stops her again. “If you’re going to have characters speak in the story, you have to do different voices for them. That’s a rule.”</p>
<p>Choosing not to argue with him, she tries again, this time lowering her voice and putting on a gruff and not particularly good impression of a Fereldan accent for the man’s words.</p>
<p>Brennan smiles. “Better.”</p>
<p>“Do I have to do a voice for the princess?”</p>
<p>He shakes his head slightly. “No, I’ll let you use your own for her. That makes more sense.”</p>
<p>“’What can I do for you?’ the princess asked. ‘Can you rescue my lady?’ the man begged. ‘I asked her to hide when the dragon came, but she would not.’ And so the princess asked where the lady was living, and she and her squire went to find her.”</p>
<p>“And what happened when they found her?”</p>
<p>“If I remember correctly, she was quite grumpy.”</p>
<p>He grins up at her. “She was. Go on, put it into the story.”</p>
<p>“The princess arrived at the cottage, and within it, found the lady, who was quite grumpy to be disturbed by a dragon-slayer and her squire. The lady asked them what they were doing there, and so, the princess explained that a man had asked her to come and rescue her.” (Here, she pitches her voice a little higher, and tries again at the Fereldan accent.) “’I am perfectly safe up here, thank you,’ the lady said. ‘But the dragon is not the only creature terrorising the village. There is a wyvern in the hills.’ ‘A wyvern?’ the princess asked. ‘Yes!’ the lady said. ‘It crippled a little boy.’”</p>
<p>“Perhaps don’t put the bit about the crippled child in the story,” he suggests. “Just say it’s been attacking people.”</p>
<p>She starts over.</p>
<p>“’Yes!’ the lady said. ‘It’s been attacking the villagers! Please, someone needs to stop it.’ The princess turned to the squire, and said to him. ‘Shall we slay this wyvern before we find the dragon?’ And the squire nodded, so she turned back to the lady and promised her that she would slay the wyvern. Then, the princess and the squire left the cottage, and they went up into the hills to hunt for the wyvern.”</p>
<p>“Finally, they found a cave,” he prompts, when she pauses.</p>
<p>“Finally, they found a cave, but within it was not one, but three wyverns. She slayed them easily, for they were no match for a dragon-slayer.”</p>
<p>He laughs softly. “Oh, I see how it is. The squire is superfluous to the story, is he?”</p>
<p>“You know that is not what I meant!” she grumbles at him. “The squire is not superfluous.”</p>
<p>He presses another kiss to her fingers, a half-smile on his lips. “Perhaps he’s saving his strength for the dragon. That would make sense.”</p>
<p>Unable to resist, she lets out another grumbling noise. “Right. So, then they both fought the dragon, and they killed it together, the end.”</p>
<p>Opening his eyes, he tilts his head up, studying her face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… You can finish the story properly. I’ll stop interrupting.”</p>
<p>She sighs. “It is I who should be sorry. I should not have snapped at you. How do you feel?”</p>
<p>His eyes slide shut again, avoiding the question. She closes hers too, tipping her head back against the cool stone of the cave wall, and tries to continue the story.</p>
<p>“When they had slain the wyverns, they returned to the lady, and told her that all was well. The wyverns would not be attacking the village any more. The lady was thankful, and told them that now, they should hunt the dragon. ‘It is down on the plain at the edge of the cliff,’ she told them. ‘It likes to perch on the ruins of the old castle.’ And so, the princess and her squire readied their weapons, and went down to the plain at the edge of the cliff, where they did, indeed, find some ruins, with a dragon perched on the remains of the tallest tower.”</p>
<p>She pauses again, hoping he will prompt her, but he remains stubbornly silent.</p>
<p>“The squire attacked first, with lightning from his magic staff. But unfortunately, the dragon also breathed lightning, and so, the squire’s favourite powers were no good to him. The princess and her squire had to fight, long and hard, with their swords; hers made of silverite, and his of magical power, until at last the beast was vanquished.” She hesitates. “Should I put in the bit about hacking its body to pieces for dragon bone and sinew?”</p>
<p>The smile returns to his face, though he doesn’t open his eyes. “Perhaps not. They returned to the castle, the end?”</p>
<p>“Haven’t you missed a part out?”</p>
<p>His brow creases with a frown, and so, she elaborates.</p>
<p>“They returned to the castle, but on the way home, the princess could not sleep. So the squire took her out of their camp to a river, where the stars formed a blanket over the sky. He told her a story. A story so magical that, by the end, he was no longer a squire, but a knight. The end.”</p>
<p>“Well, now you’ve missed a part out,” he says softly. “A very important part of any fairy tale.”</p>
<p>“Oh?”</p>
<p>“And they lived happily ever after.”</p>
<p>“Did they?”</p>
<p>His eyes flutter open again, and he presses her hand against his mouth, lavishing it with a lingering kiss before pushing himself up, so he can sit beside her. Once settled, he wraps his arm around her, drawing her in so he can brush a kiss against her lips.</p>
<p>“It’s <em>our</em> story,” he says, barely above a whisper, leaning his forehead against hers. “I think they did. What about you?”</p>
<p>She kisses him again in lieu of answering.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>*</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It takes another day and a half for Vivienne and Cole to return. They have finished more than half of the water and a fair portion of the food by that point, but Brennan is nearly recovered. He is no longer coughing as much as he was, nor shaking, and his strength returns slowly but steadily, thank the Maker.</p>
<p>They return with three of the scouts, and a cart – “just in case we needed their help moving our dear Inquisitor,” Vivienne explains – but luckily their aid is not required.</p>
<p>She quickly packs up their packs while he makes a show of his recovery, hurrying when she hears Vivienne’s voice, soft and solemn, telling him that there is no need to continue looking for the lost scouts.</p>
<p>“We found their bones not far from this cave. Must have been there for weeks, since before we even arrived, darling,” she comforts him.</p>
<p>Cole creeps up behind her,</p>
<p>“Hungry, hurting, he will come, he will save us…”</p>
<p>She grabs Cole by the collar of his shirt and half-drags him up onto his tiptoes, whirling him around so that, by the grace of Andraste, Brennan might not see what she’s doing in the shadows.</p>
<p>“Do not <em>dare</em> say that where he can hear you, do you hear me?” she grinds out, her patience worn even thinner than usual from the events of the recent days. “If you do, it will be the <em>last</em> thing you do, I can assure you.”</p>
<p>Cole nods. “Sorry.” He opens his mouth to speak again, but the look in her eyes grows fiercer still, and, wisely, he chooses to fall silent.</p>
<p>“Shall we go?” Vivienne’s voice cuts through the quiet, and she drops Cole back onto his heels.</p>
<p>When they emerge into the sunlight, Brennan looks subdued, but healthier than he has since they arrived in the Wastes. For all his sickness pained them both, it seems the enforced rest has done him good.</p>
<p>He mounts his horse in only two tries, steady once he’s seated.</p>
<p>She follows suit, noting, with a slight air of annoyance, that her muscles are tight and sore from sitting so long against the rough cave wall and holding herself so still in order not to disturb him while he slept. Her head and throat ache too, from so much talking and rationing her own water more carefully than his. She looks forward to returning to the camp and the camp bed that will be waiting for her. (And tries not to think too hard about how long it will be, travelling back across Orlais, before she can relax in Brennan’s four poster once more…)</p>
<p>“Ready?” Brennan asks, and there is almost no trace of a rasp in his voice, thank the Maker.</p>
<p>She opens her mouth to answer, and…</p>
<p>… coughs.</p>
<p>There is a moment of stillness, of tension so thick that she would have to use her sword to cut through it, Brennan’s eyes wider than saucers, and then Vivienne laughs.</p>
<p>“I hope you kept some of that honey for yourself, darling.”</p>
<p>Brennan draws his horse up beside hers.</p>
<p>“I am so sorry, Cassandra. Please, believe me, I am so sorry.”</p>
<p>She tries not to glower too harshly at him. It is not his fault, really, even if it is. It was her choice to tend to him in the way she did, and they had made agood memory in the cave, with their tale.</p>
<p>“Brennan?” she says, quietly, so he has to lean over a little in his saddle to hear her.</p>
<p>“Yes, my love?”</p>
<p>“Tonight, <em>you</em> are telling <em>me</em> a story.”</p>
<p>“About a dragon-slaying princess and the knight who is devoted to her?”</p>
<p>She nods, smiling, and ignoring the intrigued looks on all their companions’ faces.</p>
<p>“As you wish.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Fairytale!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Pulled out the fairytale (sans interruptions and clarifications) because I liked it. ♥</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Once upon a time, there lived a princess, who slayed dragons, and her squire, who was devoted to her and always obeyed her commands, even when he didn’t want to. They lived in a castle, on top of a mountain. A special place where magic filled the air. And where there were, inexplicably, a lot of statues of owls. They lived in the castle with their friends, and their friends often sent them down from the mountain and out into the world to do good deeds. Slaying dragons, of course, and demons too. Rescuing people. Solving disputes. All things that good princesses should do.</p><p>One day, the princess’ friend, Nightingale, brought her a letter, saying that there was a terrible dragon in the village of Woodcrest. So, she and her squire packed their things, and they went off to the village to slay the dragon.</p><p>When the princess and her squire arrived in the village, a man approached them.</p><p>“Help me!” he said.</p><p>“What can I do for you?” the princess asked.</p><p>“Can you rescue my lady?” the man begged. “I asked her to hide when the dragon came, but she would not.”</p><p>And so, the princess asked where the lady was living, and she and her squire went to find her.</p><p>The princess arrived at the cottage, and within it, found the lady, who was quite grumpy to be disturbed by a dragon-slayer and her squire. The lady asked them what they were doing there, and so, the princess explained that a man had asked her to come and rescue her.</p><p>“I am perfectly safe up here, thank you,” the lady said. “But the dragon is not the only creature terrorising the village. There is a wyvern in the hills.”</p><p>“A wyvern?’ the princess asked.</p><p>“Yes!” the lady said. “It’s been attacking the villagers! Please, someone needs to stop it.”</p><p>The princess turned to the squire, and said to him, “shall we slay this wyvern before we find the dragon?”</p><p>And the squire nodded, so she turned back to the lady and promised her that she would slay the wyvern. Then, the princess and the squire left the cottage, and they went up into the hills to hunt for the wyvern.</p><p>Finally, they found a cave, but within it was not one, but three wyverns. She slayed them easily, for they were no match for a dragon-slayer.</p><p>When they had slain the wyverns, they returned to the lady, and told her that all was well. The wyverns would not be attacking the village any more. The lady was thankful, and told them that now, they should hunt the dragon.</p><p>“It is down on the plain at the edge of the cliff,” she told them. “It likes to perch on the ruins of the old castle.” And so, the princess and her squire readied their weapons, and went down to the plain at the edge of the cliff, where they did, indeed, find some ruins, with a dragon perched on the remains of the tallest tower.</p><p>The squire attacked first, with lightning from his magic staff. But unfortunately, the dragon also breathed lightning, and so, the squire’s favourite powers were no good to him. The princess and her squire had to fight, long and hard, with their swords; hers made of silverite, and his of magical power, until at last the beast was vanquished.</p><p>They returned to the castle, but on the way home, the princess could not sleep. So the squire took her out of their camp to a river, where the stars formed a blanket over the sky. He told her a story. A story so magical that, by the end, he was no longer a squire, but a knight.</p><p>And they lived happily ever after.</p><p>The End.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>(This series is now over 100,000 words. OMG what? I was... not expecting that when I started writing these. But I am VERY proud. ♥ )</p></blockquote></div></div>
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